The Tartan
by kostanda
Summary: Once again, a short ditty that shot out of me. This time the protagonist is Polish, just to keep changing it up. Sorry to all the Christy/Neil pairings, this one is shamelessly a little Mary Sue-ish, though it was definitely a hoot to write the bitosex.


Disclaimer; still as much as I'd love my hands in these characters...did not invent them, don't own them, and definitely have nothing to do with the story, tv, or movie except to create, as always one of my OC's, just for fun!

"Helloooo!"

I tossed my head and laughed at Ben Pentland as he sent up the call in the mission yard. He turned in his saddle and gave me a half grin.

"Don't do to sceer 'em too much," he offered.

"Of course not!" I clipped back, my round accent flowing over him delightfully. "Call away again, I don't think they heard it."

"Hel—!" This was cut short when the door banged open, and a man came bounding from in the mission house.

"Good God, man, we heard ya th' first time! What–?" He stopped talking and looked at me as I stared back unabashedly, and a slow, steady smile spilled across my face. I liked the looks of this man.

"Good afternoon!" I called, and began to slide from the horse. He moved down the steps to help me off, but got there too late, only to stand ridiculously close and stare again. "Do you have a mind helping with the trunks?" He had a heady smell about him.

"O'course."

"Wall...seein' as Doc MacNeill's gotcha, I'll go finish up me rounds. Wass a mighty fine pleasuring ride with ya, madam," Ben tipped his hat at me, and I moved up to his horse's head.

"Thank you, Ben. It was lovely, yes? We'll be seeing you soon."

He moved away into the fading sunlight, and I turned back to see the doctor looking at me again.

"I can take the smaller trunk, and I've got the books coming soon, so the black trunk is all I need help with, if you don't mind?"

"And who are you?" I smiled at his Scottish accent.

"Sondja. Teacher."

His eyes flicked and lingered at the mission house. "We've already got'un."

"Oh, but..."

"Miss Zaleski! You've made it!" A woman was standing on the porch, with a much younger girl behind her.

"You must be Alice Henderson? Such a delight!" I noticed a dark haired man come directly behind the younger women and watch as well.

The doctor grabbed the trunks, and only then did the man come down. "I'm Reverend David Grantland. Let me see to your horse."

I followed the doctor into the house, and the other two women followed. As we climbed the stairs, the doctor called,

"Alice, where do I put this?"

"Far room on the left." We moved onward, and came to a small, rough hewn room, with simple furniture and clean floors.

"It's very adequate. Just put it on the floor," I pointed by the spot under the window. The doctor obliged, and then paused, looking at it, and ran his hand over the cover.

"I don't know this language that's painted on it."

"It's from the Old Country," I said easily, and moved to the door.

"The–?"

"We should go back down. I've got much to discuss with Miss Huddleston."

As I moved on, he suddenly grabbed my arm. "What do you want with her?"

Startled by his passionate question, I jerked away quickly, but then looked deeply into his blue eyes, finding the challenge there exciting. And I liked the feel of his hands on my body.

"I'm here to teach the older children. To–teach college classes."

"So–you must be edu–?"

"We should go," I said forcefully, knowing I had frustrated him by ignoring the burning questions. But there was something spicy and vivacious about him that made my heart and my muscles pull and yearn toward him. I am an open person by nature. I wanted to tell him everything. Yet I felt that it would become overwhelming, that I would wish to pour my very soul into him, only to have him gaze warily and walk away. It would be too fast for him.

As we came down the stairs, I felt my very fiber reach out and cry for this man behind me, and I felt my heart leap and yearn for his touch again. He had filled me, in the moments I had looked into his eyes.

My name is Sondja Anastasia Zaleski. My sister Kostanda and I had come from Poland nearly eight years ago. Our parents stayed in the Old Country, where their money was worth more, and they could live the life of wealth they understood. My youth had been filled with travels, and with my father's money, Kostanda and I went to America to get our college education at a private school run by some of my father's acquaintances.

College was challenging at first, as Kostanda and I were terrible at English. As our proficiency grew, so did our spirits, and soon we were embarking on many journeys around America, sending lengthy letters to our parents.

One day, we were at a lecture at the college, and a Doctor Ferrand had come to speak about the missions he ran in tiny, depraved villages in the hills of Tennessee. Kostanda had approached him later to offer a monetary contribution, but I had volunteered my services.

At first, convincing Dr. Ferrand was difficult. I was determined to use my college education with the children of the Smokey Mountains, to give them the classes they would never get outside of their homes. Kostanda hadn't helped, as she wanted me to return home to Poland with her.

But Dr. Ferrand finally was appeased after writing to the mission in Cutter Gap, and Kostanda had found a Polish man in our neighborhood who would marry her and accompany her back to the Old Country. All was set in order, and my arrival was expected.

My personality is as warm as my people's. We're raised to be proud of our roots and to love the folk songs of our mountain heritage. Laid away in my big locked trunk were the decorated dance costumes that called my name, and the books in Polish. To forget my roots was difficult, and I missed hearing the soft call of my native tongue and see the lined faces of my family.

We climbed down the stairs, and I followed the women into the kitchen, where a girl they called Ruby Mae had set out mugs of hot tea.

"Well, Miss Huddleston. We've got a lot to discuss, yes?" I asked, sitting across from her. She was very startlingly pretty, and looked terribly young and frail amid these rugged surroundings. I wondered at her position, and how she had grown to love the mountains. In the one letter I'd received from her before my journey, it was filled with praise of the people and her pupils, and of the beauty of the hills. I didn't need to be told. Those mountains reminded me of Europe, and of home.

"Yes. I–I wanted to tell you about the five students you'll be starting with. And–only the basic classes, mind you. They still will have to finish up their standard studies." I detected a slight note of defiance in the teacher's voice, and smiled across at her.

"Of course, that is fine. We will speak on each topic before I teach it, and together we make it happen."

"I–." She stopped, and glanced quickly at Alice and the Doctor, and then paused again mid-breath as the Reverend came in and took the last seat. "I wonder at how you will teach the children higher English–what with–your accent and so?"

I shook my head. "I see what you mean. My English sometimes is a little strange to hear, but I promise you my grasp on how to teach and explain the proper use is quite high, as I have the degrees, Miss Huddleston."

"It's Christy, please."

"Yes. And you will call me Sondja, please."

She nodded slowly, her eyes flicking around. "Well, why don't we start out with our day tomorrow, and I will introduce you and we'll go from there?"

"That seems to be the best choice," I amended. We all sat quietly a moment, then the Doctor mentioned something about a family in the Cove, and they were discussing names and personalities that immediately put me out of the conversation. I listened for a while, and then slowly excused myself with the now lukewarm tea for the porch.

I could feel myself settling into the earth below me, and fill with excitement and thrills at the idea of beginning a new life, alone and free. My parents had decided to stop sending money when I had refused to go home with Kostanda. Though they reassured me they loved me, since I had finished my education, they felt they would be wasting their money on me. Besides, as my six aunts reminded me in their last joint letter, it was time for me to marry anyway.

I didn't mind; to be here was a great new world. I would always carry my country inside me, and always be missing my culture, but this could be something great spread out before me.

As the sun set behind the mountains, a calm, cool blue and purple settled over the dark green woods. The sky lit a deep yellow and pink, and the air got steadily quieter.

I smelled pipe smoke, and looked over. The Doctor had just come from the kitchen, and he was thoughtfully smoking his pipe and looking benignly at me.

"Good evening, Doctor MacNeill."

"It's Neil."

"Of course, if you should wish that."

"I do." He came to stand next to me, and I loved the smokey spice of his pipe, and inhaled deeply. He glanced at me, surprised. "You like that smell?"

I nodded. "It smells rich and full, like the fumes of an old house that has been saturated with perfumes and ages of polish. It smells of a satchel of spice and herbs my grandmother made for my trunks. I like it."

"You're from Poland. Alice told me."

I glanced at him. "Yes."

"Do you miss it?"

I didn't answer. It would start me thinking about the Old Country and how I loved my heritage, and I didn't want to scare this Scot off right away. He gave me warmth and peace, and I wanted to be close to him for a long time.

It grew darker, and it was a waiting silence, for I felt he wanted me to speak on his question, but I couldn't. My throat was stuck, my lips ached, and I felt a bit shameless, as I could only think of kissing his long stubborn mouth.

Finally, he sighed and knocked out his pipe, and then gazed long at me in the dusk before saying his good night.

The next three weeks was difficult for me.

It was not the teaching, as the children were extremely interested to soak the knowledge I could bring them. It took another week to get the books, as my Polish ones were useless. I longed for more, but there wasn't room. And I missed intellectual conversation desperately.

Christy at first seemed to be happy to give the children another opportunity. When, after lessons, I spoke with her, she slowly seemed to recede into herself. It took another three weeks before she hardly spoke to me about anything other than the children, and it was further worsened when she discovered I was Lutheran.

And I fell in love with the Doctor. It was not hard to do. He alone spoke to me about other topics, and filled my desire for knowledge about other things. We were on the same level in education, and I felt myself glow in his presence. It was not hard to see the joy he had in his patients, and the bond we forged without speaking on it. Yet I was afraid to talk to him about my personal problems, and the gorge grew with one incident.

I was on my knees outside digging out the dead flower masses to prepare the ground for the harvest season when I heard the Doctor's horse ride up.

I glanced up, and was ready to call out when I saw that he hadn't even recognized me, and was staring at the porch. Standing, I watched soundlessly as he went halfway up the stairs, and Christy stood at the top. They gazed at each other and their talk was so low that I could barely hear anything. But their conversation was lost on me as I saw the way they contemplated at one another.

The Doctor and the Teacher loved each other.

Suddenly, small nuances ran across my eyes, and I realized I had been blind to the Doctor's love of Christy since my love had blinded me. With this, reality came tumbling into my life and the ache of this love consumed me, and I fell with great fervor to my work.

This continued for a long time. I grew silent in Christy's uncertain quiet, and was less obvious in my seeking of the Doctor. I thought perhaps my growing friendship with him had been part of Christy's cold shoulder. But when I avoided him, she did not change her disposition toward me.

The children filled my days with sunshine, and at night I made myself scarce by taking long walks about the Cove and visiting the families. I grew careless of the time, and of communicating my whereabouts with the mission.

One night I found my way back, and there were lights blazing from the kitchen and adjoining rooms. As I climbed the stairs, the Doctor flung open the door and stopped short.

"Where have you been, woman?!?" he cried aloud, and swiftly grabbed me in a huge embrace, pressing my body flush against his. We stood there a moment before he stepped back and shook my shoulders forcefully. "We were about to go out and look for you!"

I shrugged listlessly and was not able to meet his eyes. Christy and the Reverend were at the door, their coats on. When I had discovered the love between Neil and Christy, I had wondered at their hesitation. But then I had seen how the Reverend also took her time, and I began to understand the triangle between them all.

Christy shook her head and moved back inside, murmuring, "Thank God she's alright."

I snorted at this, and the Doctor shook me again.

"Look at me, Sondja!"

When I glanced into his eyes, I was nearly bowled over by the fever in his eyes. "What is this? You laugh at the idea of a God?"

This was not the question I was expecting, and I was conscious of the Reverend still standing there.

"I'm Lutheran. I suppose I do. I–it's just that I find it silly that everyone was so worried."

The Doctor stood his full height over me, and then walked away, shaking his head. I turned away from the sunny kitchen, and sat outside, reveling in the chill.

I missed my sister, I missed college. I missed the love that I couldn't call mine.

One day, I found my way to the river. It was a dark October day, and the clouds were rolling and boiling in the sky. The river was full and tumbling, and I sat on a large flat rock. As I let my thoughts filter through, I heard a shout go from up river, and I felt something sharp prick my temple under my hair.

There was a convulsive jerk, and I felt the thin skin of my scalp scrape and tear, and something embedded itself deeper. Tears broke in my eyes, and I slowly moved my hand up to feel a fishing hook stuck into my head.

"Sondja!"

It was Doctor MacNeill, looking terrified and guilty. A fishing pool was gripped in his hand. He was racing toward me from up river, and dropped down to me with surprising agility for a man of his breadth and stature.

"Good Lord, lassie, I'm so sorry! Let me see it."

He knelt next to me, and took my face in his hands. I felt the trickle of blood along my jaw, and caught the first drip in my surprised hand.

"I–I think you caught me, Neil," I managed, and struggled not to faint. He was watching me closely. At my attempt at a joke, he choked out a chuckle.

"Let's get you back to my cabin. Come on." With a firm arm around my waist, he hauled me back to his place. By the time we reached there, blood was pouring down the side of my face. He looked devastated.

"Let me see it, Sondja. You'll need to lay down."

I looked at the stairs warily. "Do I?" The floor began to sway, and I assumed it was the loss of blood, not the nearness of my love.

He seemed to reach a decision, and took me to a side room that I had not seen. Fumbling with a padlock, he then took my hand and led me to a cot in the corner of what obviously was a laboratory.

"I would put you in my bed, but I–." He looked at me and shook his head.

With a shaking hand, I reached up and shook out the long cascade of curling thick black hair. Glancing at the doctor, I saw he was looking at it with a strange expression on his face.

"I'm going to give you something to sleep while I dig this out, okay Sondja?" he asked gently, remembering himself.

I nodded, and prepared to sleep.

When I awoke, I was still on the cot. Doctor MacNeill was writing something in a high desk next to me. As I stirred, he looked up and smiled at me.

"I was able to get it out without shaving off any of your beautiful hair." He came over to sit next to me on the cot and took my hand.

"I'm so sorry, Sondja."

I covered his large paw with my other free hand. "You fixed it, Neil. I'll be fine."

He nodded, and helped me to sit. Then my eyes focused, and I saw the two walls of books that lined the room. Gasping, I stood quickly and waited for my sense to clear. Here was a room that could heal my loneliness.

I went to the nearest shelf and ran my hand lightly over the spines of the leather bound volumes and sighed with relief.

"Care to tell me?"

Remembering the doctor, I glanced back at him and shrugged. He came to stand next to me and absently pulled out a novel.

"Is the mission alright for you?"

I began to shrug again, and then, perhaps because of the affects of the drugs he'd given me previously, I slowly raised a hand and buried my face, allowing the hot tears to fall. I shook my head, and he touched my shoulder, turning me to him.

"No, it's not. I don't have a thing in common with David, and Alice is lovely but she's so busy. I've got the people, and I've got the Cove, but I don't have a family here. I've been so lonely..."

He raised my face with a hand on my chin. "There's Christy. You're close in age."

"She won't speak with me much. I–I think she's intimidated because of my college degree–something she's always considered. I'm sorry, it's cruel of me–."

"No," he stopped me. "I can see how that could happen."

Moving away from him, I began to look at the titles of the books, and finally turned to face him. He was looking at me softly, comfortably. Idly, my eyes wandered up past his tousled head, and saw a huge length of tartan above our heads.

"What's that?" I pointed.

He glanced up and cracked a grin. "My kilt. The MacNeill tartan."

It was a lovely color of blue and green and black. It was a good thick wool, I could tell, and smiled at the pattern. I could see him wearing it.

"It's lovely, yes," I agreed, and our eyes met again.

That harvest, I ordered the pattern of the MacNeill tartan for a skirt. When I put it on for the gathering, I felt as if I was putting myself in front of everyone in the boldest message a woman could give. It was my way of offering myself to Neil. I wondered if he would notice.

And at the party, I felt his eyes on me, but he stood closer to Christy, and danced only with her. When the pie was handed about, I saw out of the corner of my eye the Doctor putting his arm around her.

I grew tired of the festivities. Going for my shawl, I went outside and watched the silent fall of leaves.

There was a crunch of step behind me, and I turned to see the Doctor.

"You've got on my family tartan."

I smiled at him tentatively. "I understand the pull of heritage. I would do so much to see...to see the costumes and the folk dances of Poland again. So...real, I remember."

He sighed behind me. "I heard about that trunk of yours."

I glanced at him, startled. "How?"

"You took it all out for the girls. Ruby Mae talks."

So then he knew about the costumes and patterns I lovingly kept away safely, and of the Polish books and the mementoes that I kept tucked into my past. There was nothing to say beyond that.

"I hoped you would notice the tartan," I said instead. As he started to answer, a shout went up inside the house, and I moved away from him in his pause.

"You should go back inside."

"It's much more beautiful out here," I intoned and gestured to the colors.

"Yes. It is." He didn't move either, and I glanced, and my breath caught. He was looking at me.

Yet two days after that, I caught the Doctor MacNeill and Christy holding hands by the river, staring soulfully into each other' eyes. I went for a long walk.

And the next day, I left at the crack of dawn. I couldn't see Christy that day. I put on my emerald green dress with the sleeves and full swinging skirt and tall black walking shoes.

That day was moist and somewhat overcast. The clouds would break, but would mainly be dark and gray over the Cove. Fog and mist began to develop in the evening.

As I neared the mission in the early evening, I began to see figures outside the porch. When I got close enough, I could see it was Christy and the Doctor, standing as if they had had an argument, that there was tension palpable between the two.

They stopped and looked at me, and I knew what they saw, for I had seen the children play in the fogs. I stood out of the green grass and the white mist reaching into the sky. My figure was slightly blurred, and the dress hung around my shoulders and hips. My hair had curled loosely around my face, my skin was damp and moist and pink with the chill.

Suddenly I saw Christy make a motion, and the Doctor looked at her. It was all I could do from sobbing out loud. I loved him so!

Turning abruptly, I disappeared easily into the mist and walked purposely toward the river.

Little did I know that the Doctor had turned around back for me, and seeing me not there had broken out in a run to where I had last stood, heedless of Christy's calls.

He found me on the same rock where he'd literally caught me. I was standing though, arms crossed, and heart aching. My voice was low as I addressed him.

"Can I help you, Doctor?"

He paused, uncertain. "Yes. I've been looking for you all day. You need to speak with me, Sondja. I have to tell you–."

"Yes. That Christy and you have reached an understanding?"

He caught his breath, and yet I continued relentlessly, bitterness creeping into my voice.

"I'm so very happy for you, Doctor. It's been so obvious that you harbored feelings for her, and I'm so glad it has worked for you in this. But why–." I rounded on him, and poked his surprised broad chest. "Why do you think I wore your tartan? Because, my love, I was hoping you'd understand! I was calling to your very roots, man, telling you how I would give over my own Polish heritage and be consumed by you if you'd only see it, and let me try!"

I turned and ran from him, and he grabbed my arm in passing.

"Sondja! I've not chased you all day to let you go without saying my piece." I struggled, but in answer, he only brought me closer, so that my entire body was next to his. I paused in surprise and secret delight at his nearness, and he took that moment to grasp me totally in both arms. I froze.

"You're right. Christy and I had unspoken thoughts about one another. I thought I was in love with her these past few months." He stared into my startled eyes and gripped me tighter. "Love–it is not so much as being in awe of the woman's beauty, but also if her soul, her spirit, her beliefs, and whether she shares your interests...that's what makes a fit for a man. I have learned this. Don't think I didn't notice your tartan. Good Lord, Sondja, why do you think I didn't put you in my bed when I was tending to your head? Because every night I would smell you in there, and wish you there–so inappropriately. I caught you? No–you caught me, Sondja, from the moment I saw you in the mission yard. I love you so desperately that it scared me. I hid from it."

"I saw you with Christy yesterday."

He sighed and buried his face in my hair momentarily. "Then you saw our serious conversation about our feelings. She loves me, perhaps, in a young, inexperienced love. It's exciting and flattering, but it's not what I need, and in the end we would both be dissatisfied. Yesterday I explained that I did love her–in a purely human way, but not enough to ever consider spending a future with her. I told her I loved you, and she didn't take it too well. She didn't understand how I could have fallen for you so quickly, but, Sondja, I just know it's right with you."

I began to melt into his tight embrace, delighting in the curves of his thighs and hips, molding into the contours of his chest. He responded by breathing harder and pressing his lips to my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

"When you disappeared into the fog, I panicked and ran after you, but you were gone. Don't ever do that again, Sondja."

I met his eyes and gave a little laugh. "I won't run away in the fog, Neil."

He smiled, and then shook his head, growing serious. "I mean it seriously. Don't leave again. Marry me, Sondja. I love you."

My breath caught, and he captured my lips. When we broke, I nodded, then whispered, "Oh yes, Neil."

I wore his tartan for my wedding. We wanted children and to have a life together, so our marriage took place that next week. When I walked down the mission steps, I was shocked to see my Neil in full Polish costume. His red and white striped pants and decorative, embroidered long coat was starched and fitted to his broad chest. And a feather perched raucously on the top of his red four cornered beret.

When I reached the alter, I gave a wide grin at him.

"I see we've switched costume, love,"

He grinned back. "You're marrying into my heritage, darlin'. I thought I'd show you that I plan to move into yours as well. Surprise!" And he sneaked a kiss under the Reverend's nose. I was moved and my throat felt thick for a moment, thinking that I was marrying my home.

It was a very thrilling feeling indeed, yes.

That night, we approached the wedding bed at his cabin with slow steps, our hands intertwined. I was anxious and excited, as I knew my new husband to be a passionate man, but he looked at me in the candle light, and captured my lips until they were swollen with pleasure.

It was heady, and as he took off the tartan wrapping, I felt special, sacred, secure. With fingers familiar to the clothing, I stripped him of his heavy embroidered jacket and tall leather boots.

As soon as he was in his long underwear, and myself in my winter shift, he pulled me to the bedding and sank into the quilts, holding me tightly as if he would never let me go.

"Sondja," he finally breathed. "I–I'm afraid."

"Why?" I asked, enjoying his nearness without shame.

"I–I've been thinking about this for weeks, how I wanted to touch you and hold you. I don't want to scare you and hurt you."

"How ridiculous!" I actually giggled. "This is what my mother has taught us long ago. I know all about the passions of men in the bedroom and how I must learn from my husband. You will teach me how to please you, Neil."

He stared at me, and threw back his head and laughed deeply.

"My love! This will be our best adventure yet!"

And he captured my neck with his mouth, and pulled off my shift so that I laid naked on our bed. In the warm room, I felt an excited chill course through my body. Instinctively, I traced the contours of my navel, and Neil's hand stopped me. I looked at his face and saw an intense longing there, as he looked sweepingly at my bare body, and then lingered longingly on my face.

"Can we have children soon, Sondja?" He placed a hand on my belly.

"Yes, love. Give them to me soon," I returned, and suddenly kissed him back. It was all he could take, and he scooped me up so I was pressed against him, and I was shocked to feel a growing long bump in his trousers. Pulling back, I gazed down at his knickers.

"Neil–?"

"It's what you do to me, Sondja," he told me huskily. Wonderously, I dipped my hand into his waistband and felt the hot longing there and at my touch my husband groaned and pressed toward me.

"How can it feel so good?" I asked softly, meeting his eyes.

"Like this," he returned, and trailed a hand from my stomach to the apex of my legs. Immediately I gave a small scream, and was rewarded when I felt desire course through me and I leaned into his hand as his fingers began a small shallow search. Withdrawing, he looked at me again. I nodded, and then hungrily stripped him of the rest of his clothing.

I was amazed at the sight before me. I felt a great ache to feel him near and we grasped each other, and touched and kissed until the frenzy in our blood positioned us in the age old formation.

Poised above me, Neil stared into my face.

"Sondja...you're finally my wife."

"Yes. And you are mine."

He slowly leaned in for a kiss, and then slid into my well prepared body, and the rhythm of the night consumed us and pushed us into acres of pleasure that rewarded us well that night. Our first child of six was born to us exactly nine months later. We named him Neil Clemens.

THE END


End file.
